


And so I hang for you

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Running on Fumes [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Injury, Rule 63, Teenage hook-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sundays are special; Sundays are when she escapes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And so I hang for you

Life had changed, in Formenos, but some things would always be the same.

Maedhros came home from the library one evening to find a musical cacophony in the house. Heavy bass blared from the living room, while in the family room, Maglor was reclining on the couch, her bare feet up on the arm, fiddling while the twins danced wildly around the room.

“Why is it so loud?” asked Maedhros, clapping her hands to her ears as the twins rocketed around her legs.

“Moryo and Tyelko wouldn’t turn down their terrible gangster rap,” said Maglor, eyes closed as she played. “So I decided I’d just pit my own feeble music against their Three 6 Mafia.”

“Three 6 Mafia isn’t just gangster rap, you fucking nerd,” shouted Caranthir from the other room. “They’re an Academy Award winning hip hop group.”

“I don’t care,” called Maglor. “I can’t get behind any music with lyrics that are an homage to collar popping.”

“Snob,” snorted Celegorm.

“Where’s Curvo?” asked Maedhros, interrupting quickly before the argument could escalate. She knew how their sister hated noise.

“She’s running drills at the park with dad,” said Maglor, sweeping her bow across the strings. “Did you get your work done?” She shot a shrewd glance at Maedhros. “Such a dedicated student, getting your homework done on a Saturday…”

“I like to get a head start,” said Maedhros evasively, and made to leave the room, weaving around the twins, who had collapsed to the floor in exhaustion and were now whispering amongst themselves.

“And leave your Sundays open, hm?”

Maedhros didn’t look back. She knew without looking that Maglor was smiling knowingly.

 

-

 

She woke in the early grey dawn, a light mist hanging over the silent neighborhood. Heart pounding with excitement, she slipped from bed and into her running clothes. Tying her sneakers, she paused in the hallway, alert for any sound from her sisters’ bedrooms. The twins sometimes woke fiendishly early on weekends, but today, there was silence even from their room.

Down the stairs on catlike feet, and out the door. And she was free.

She never felt lighter than when she was flying down the quiet grey streets of the sleeping neighborhood, with nothing hanging over her but anticipation. Because there, waiting at the end of the road, was a dark-haired figure in blue, bouncing slightly on her toes.

Fingon.

“Hey,” Maedhros breathed, as she drew level, and her cousin greeted her with a brilliant smile.

“Hey!”

They set off together, falling swiftly into step, their arms brushing as they ran side by side. Maedhros had to work from keeping the smile from her face, and from darting glances at Fingon out of the corner of her eye.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” said Fingon at last, a mile in. “You were so chilly at the meet.”

“You know I had to be,” said Maedhros. “My father…”

“Doesn’t want you ‘fraternizing’, I know,” said Fingon, rolling her eyes. “Still, you’re too good an actor. Sometimes I feel like you do actually hate me.”

“What?” Maedhros nearly stumbled. “You can’t – You know I don’t hate you, Fin.”

“Hard to tell, sometimes,” said Fingon, and Maedhros stopped then, reaching out for Fingon’s arm, pulling her up short on the side of the road.

“I don’t hate you,” she said, and slid her hand up Fingon’s arm. “Anything but. Fingon, I – ”

A truck roared past them, kicking up dust, and both of them flinched back from the shoulder of the road.

“What were you saying?” asked Fingon, as the dust settled, but Maedhros, suddenly aware of how exposed they were, shook her head.

“Let’s keep going.”

Fingon sighed, but followed as Maedhros tugged her into a light jog once more.

 

The idea was to do a long run, slow and easy, to work out the burn of the week and stretch out their muscles for the start of the next.

That was the theory anyway.

Instead, after another mile, and a long silence: “Shall we cut down to Luvailin?” asked Fingon, a glint in her eyes.

Maedhros told herself her heart was beating fast because of their swift pace, but knew it wasn’t true. She darted a look at her cousin, and felt hunger leap hot and fast through her. “…Yes.”

So instead of an eight mile run, it was to be more like four, with a long, beautiful interlude in the tree-shrouded privacy of the grove down by the lake. And Fingon’s hair was caught with leaves by the end, and the only sound was her gasps as Maedhros dragged her shorts to the side and slid her hand between Fingon’s legs, and Fingon pulled her down into clinging kisses, one arm around her shoulders while the other fumbled at Maedhros’ waistband, and Maedhros thought nothing could be more perfect than this moment, alone and drunk with pleasure in the trees.

 

“It’s getting late,” said Fingon, much later, curled against Maedhros’ side.

Maedhros glanced at her watch and cursed softly. “Damn. I need to get back.”

She got to her feet and held out a hand to pull Fingon up. Fingon brushed the dirt from her clothes and skin, and twitched a leaf from her hair. She shot Maedhros a dazzling smile. “Do I look presentable?”

Maedhros couldn’t resist pulling her in for one last lingering kiss in the dappled sunlight. “You look irresistible.”

Fingon laughed brightly and wound her arms around Maedhros’ neck, kissing her back and tugging lightly on her long braid. “Don’t tempt me, Mae. I’ll need to push you down and have you again.”

Maedhros let out a groan and pulled away reluctantly. “We really have to go. My father will freak if I’m not back in time for family brunch.”

Fingon glanced at her own watch. “We may have to take a shortcut if you want to get back in time.”

They cut off down along the railroad tracks, running from tie to tie, enjoying the even grade and hoping the straight shot of the tracks would cut down the time back to Maedhros’ neighborhood.

“Careful,” Fingon said, leaping nimbly to the side. “That one’s uneven. Watch out, right there, Mae – ”

But Maedhros, distracted and checking her watch, stumbled, and her foot caught between the tracks where they crossed a country road.

She fell, her ankle twisting sharply, and she gave a cry as she landed hard. “Ah!”

“Maedhros!” Fingon whirled and raced back to her, falling to her knees at her side. “Are you okay?”

“I – ” Maedhros broke off, wincing. “I’m fine. But Fin,” a sudden shiver ran through her, and she pulled desperately at her leg. “…my foot’s stuck.”

Fingon knelt by her feet. “Jesus,” she said. “I don’t know how, but it’s gotten wedged in right where the tracks sink into the road. Can you pull – ”

“I am,” said Maedhros, tightly. “It’s not moving.”

Fingon reached down, tugging at Maedhros’ foot. “If I can loosen your shoe, you can pull your foot out.” She fumbled at the laces, but Maedhros’ foot was wedged sideways, caught so snugly that even if the shoe were loosened, she wouldn’t be able to pull it free. Fingon looked up, and her face was pale. “It’s not moving.”

Maedhros could feel the panic building in her, and strained helplessly at her leg. All it achieved was a wrenching pain in her ankle, and a sharp stab where the rail was cutting into her skin. “Pull harder.”

“I’m trying!” cried Fingon. “It’s not helping. Mae, do you have your phone? We need to call – ”

“Who?” asked Maedhros, her voice tense. “The fire department? Our parents?”

“Someone!” said Fingon, and her eyes were a little wild. “We need – ” She broke off eyes widening in horror. In the distance came the forlorn wail of a train’s whistle.

Maedhros broke into a sweat. “Pull harder,” she begged. “Please.”

Fingon tugged desperately at her leg, the rail cutting painfully into Maedhros’ ankle. The whistle came again, louder now.

“It’s coming,” whispered Maedhros. “Fin, you need to get out of the tracks.”

“ _You’re_ in the tracks!”

“You’re not going to be able to free me,” said Maedhros, with dreadful realization. “Fin, you need to get out of the way.”

“And leave you here?” Fingon’s voice was shrill now, pitched high with fear. “Fuck that.”

Maedhros looked up. The train was rounding the corner now, and she closed her eyes. _In, out. Breathe in serenity, exhale…_

“Maedhros!”

“Get out of here, Fingon!” she said sharply. “Get out of the way!”

“No!”

The whistle again, urgent now. Maedhros squeezed her eyes shut. The conductor could almost certainly see her at this point, but she knew it would be too late for him to brake in time. “Get away!”

“No!” Arms were wrapping around her, heaving desperately, pulling so hard at her that pain tore through her body.

“Fin – ”

Fingon gave one last heave, and Maedhros heard a horrible cracking noise. Her scream mingled with the shriek of the train’s whistle, and the body-throbbing thunder of its wheels as it bore down on them.

 

-

 

The clatter and whine was so familiar that Fingon rarely thought of it – the Eagle Medevac was flying over town most days, often taking over-ambitious hikers from the unforgiving summit of Thangorodrim. But today, it was coming in the other direction.

Fingon was huddled by the tracks, the great black body of the train, stopped at last, gleaming in front of her. She pulled Maedhros close, shaking so hard her teeth rattled. Maedhros had fainted, and Fingon almost envied her that escape. _Stay with it,_ she told herself fiercely. _Hang onto her._

Someone was patting her on the arm, talking gently. “Let her go, there’s a good girl. They’ve got the stretcher ready. They’re ready for her.”

But Fingon wouldn’t let go, and at last they carried her onto the Eagle alongside Maedhros’ stretcher, and took them both to the hospital.

 

-

 

Fingon wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. There was still blood on her hands, dirt streaking her legs, but she didn’t care. How long had it been? She could hear raised voices from behind the door – Fëanor and Nerdanel, arguing even now.

The door opened, and someone slipped out. Fingon looked up, but Maglor just shook her head as she closed the door quietly behind her.

“No change,” she said, coming to sit next to Fingon.

“What are your parents yelling about?”

“Oh,” Maglor sighed. “The usual. Whether we should switch doctors, which of them should go look after the others, if we should be suing someone, whose fault is it…”

Fingon stared down at her knees. “Your father seemed pretty convinced it was mine.”

Maglor winced, and laid a tentative hand on Fingon’s arm. “That’s not…He doesn’t really think that. He’s just scared, and he says things… _I_ know that you saved her life.”

Fingon looked at Maglor, and she could feel the tears pressing against her eyes. “How did the surgery go? Is - Will there be any permanent damage?”

Maglor looked like she was attempting a comforting look, but only managed anxiety. “We won’t know until she wakes up, and even then probably not for a while. They said it went as well as could be expected. But she’s not going to be running again any time soon.” 

“Does your dad - ”

“Fin? Oh, thank god!”

Fingon looked up, and then the tears did spill from her eyes. Her father was coming through the door to the waiting room, wild-eyed and terrified, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.

“My god, Finno, I was frantic – We woke up and you were gone, and then something was all over the news about someone getting hit by a train – Maglor called and said you were fine, but– ”

Behind them, Maglor got up, gave them a tiny smile, and slipped back into the hospital room.

“Are you okay?” Fingolfin whispered, holding Fingon close.

Fingon tried to say, “Yes,” but instead just clung to him and cried into that familiar, old blue sweatshirt.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Many thanks to tehta for her help and input! (And the TGIF polling.)


End file.
